"Robert Miller's wife admitted she was the murderer?" Lopez, who had arrived at the hotel early in the morning, stared with bloodshot eyes, feeling like his entire night's work had been for nothing.
"She believes her prayers to the Holy Death caused her husband's murder," Jack recounted their experiences last night with a mixture of laughter and tears.
"After discovering her husband's infidelity, she compromised, but she still harbored resentment. So she prayed to her god, praying for his misfortune."
"Holy Mother," Lopez murmured, making the sign of the cross. "May God forgive her sins."
"Anyway, this incident has given us new inspiration." Jack handed him a tablet. "I know the Holy Death is an officially banned belief in Mexico, and even its images are strictly prohibited from public display. So, I need your help."
"If the murderer is the Holy Death, wielding a scythe, I think you don't need me, but a priest who can perform exorcisms," Lopez joked, looking at the Holy Death depicted on the tablet, draped in three different colored wedding gowns.
"Red, black and gold?" Lopez understood what the FBI agents meant. "The two deceased were painted in the first two colors, so you think the murderer is likely a fanatic believer of the Holy Death?"
Jubal nodded and said, "Yes, this is not just a superstitious activity. Considering that the murder weapon was a sickle, we think this is some kind of sacrificial ritual belonging to the belief in the Holy Death.
Of course, we noticed that there are statues of other colors. The statements collected from the Internet are different, and some are completely contradictory. We are still trying to analyze them."
Lopez scratched his head in distress, "Okay, but the most contact I had with the Holy Death was only We were ordered to destroy the mobile shrines displayed on the streets.
These heresies have a long history, dating back to the 18th century. However, they have always been suppressed by the Catholic Church, and only spread orally among the lower classes. Even shrines or altars are secretly set up in homes.
Fortunately, you asked me last night to search for local religious groups involved in black magic and witchcraft. I found out about a well-known black wizard in Tijuana. Perhaps we can get more information from him. "
The Holy Death is a product of a fusion of Catholic and Aztec beliefs, mixed with various strange rituals and doctrines borrowed from other cults like voodoo.
Therefore, a well-known local black wizard is undoubtedly an expert in the relevant field.
"That guy's name is Julio Salazar, nicknamed 'Cuckoo.' According to my informant, even if he has nothing to do with this matter, he must know something,"
Lopez assured.
"'Cuckoo' is considered the leading black magic practitioner in this area. Even some drug cartels frequently seek him out for spells, hoping to ensure smooth drug shipments."
"Maybe he's the murderer." Jack, who had never had a favorable impression of such shamans, beckoned Clay to gather his equipment.
Hannah had little interest in the dark arts, so Jack, Clay, and Jiejie followed Lopez to Julio Salazar's shop near Tijuana's red-light district.
The others stayed in the hotel, searching online for local information related to the Holy Death.
"Are you kidding?" Clay looked at the flashing neon sign in front of him, which advertised a shop selling tarot cards, and looked at Lopez, who was driving, in disbelief.
"Of course not," Lopez shrugged. "When he's not performing black magic rituals, he usually reads palms and channels psychics for tourists here. He also sells voodoo dolls and other religious paraphernalia."
Is this so-called leading black magic practitioner so down-to-earth? Jack also shook his head speechlessly, got out of the car and put on his bulletproof vest.
While his earlier casual suggestion that this "Cuckoo" might be the murderer was simply out of prejudice against such shamans, it wasn't completely impossible.
Furthermore, considering this individual's connections to drug cartels, it was always wise to be cautious. While a bulletproof vest might not protect against black magic, it certainly could stop bullets.
The decor of this small shop resembled a gypsy divination hut, albeit with far more complex elements.
Jack didn't know much about so-called black magic, but he had received some FBI training on cults, and he could recognize many occult symbols.
Skulls, Stars of David, Amulets of Life, Pentagrams, Hexagrams, Ouroboros, Inverted Crosses, and even the familiar Yin-Yang fish and swastika were all visible.
However, upon entering, what truly caught Jack's attention wasn't the mystical, complex, and intimidating occult symbols; it was the fresh scent of blood that filled the air, alongside the strange aroma of incense and herbs.
"Attention!" Jack drew his sidearm. The others, unsure of what was happening, drew their weapons and formed a tactical formation behind him.
The shop was divided into several small rooms, heavily curtained, making the light dim. Jack activated his tactical flashlight, and the four of them split into two teams to search each room.
After clearing the other rooms, they reached the doorway to the innermost room, which was draped with thick curtains. The strong smell of blood wafting from within was palpable even to the three other men, whose senses were less acute than Jack's.
Lopez signaled to Jiejie, who was standing on the other side, and they both drew back the curtains. Jack and Clay leaned forward, shining their tactical flashlights into the room.
A man leaned against a chair with his back to the door. A candle still burned on the table before him, providing the only light source in the room before they entered.
The tactical flashlight, mounted below the muzzle of his rifle, illuminated a large pool of semi-coagulated blood beneath the chair as the muzzle moved.
"Dead,"
Clay said, stepping around the table and shining his light directly at the man. The horrific scene that followed made even the battle-hardened former SEAL shudder.
The deceased hung his head, his entire chest soaked in blood, a horrifying sight like a blood-red waterfall. The spurting blood even landed on the wall several meters away, forming an abstract painting.
Of course, if that were all, it wouldn't be enough to horrify Clay.
The moment Jack lifted the deceased's head, Clay's gaze followed the light to the corpse's face, revealing two black, bloody holes in the area of his eyes.
"His eyeballs were gouged out."
"It seems that black magic didn't protect this wizard." Jack's cold joke sounded a bit hellish.
The cat sealed my left hand, causing my typing efficiency to plummet.
(End of this chapter)